Help Me
by 14hpgirl19
Summary: Hotch gets a call in the middle of the night from someone from his past. Now he has to help his brother clear his name. ONE-SHOT. What I hope to see in 8x23 "Brothers Hotchner"


**This is just a little something I came up with while praying Brothers Hotchner was next week. I'm so excited for that episode, and I keep thinking of what's going to happen with Sean, so I decided to write it. Hope you enjoy!**

_He's angry._

_ Aaron could tell the moment he walked through the door. It slammed so loud he was surprised it didn't splinter in half. After the slam, the house was dead silent. _

_Shaking, Aaron raced out of his room and darted into Sean's. Thankfully his little brother was still fast asleep, completely oblivious to the hell that his sibling was about to enter. Shutting the door behind him, Aaron stepped back out into the hallway and made sure Sean's door was locked. He would be able to get back in after everything calmed down, thanks to his trusty bobby pin he stole from his mother's room. _

_There's a thumping noise coming from the stairs to Aaron's right, and he knows running won't do him any good. The best he can do now is close his eyes and pray…_

RING RING.

Aaron Hotchner bolted upright, sweat covering his brow. He was breathing heavily, and it took him a few seconds to regain his senses. That had been in the past. He wasn't in any danger now. He wasn't a little boy anymore. And his father was long since dead.

It was several seconds later when he remembered why he woke up in the first place. Reaching blindly behind him, Hotch's fingers closed around his cell phone.

"Hotchner," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. Would it really kill them to wait until the morning? His alarm clock read three twenty-seven.

"Aaron?" a familiar voice asked worriedly. Hotch sat up straight.

"Sean?" His dream flashed in his mind, but he shoved it away. "What's wrong?"

"Aaron, I… I didn't do anything."

Hotch was out of bed at this point, moving around the room in search of clothes. "And why would you need to tell me that? What happened?"

Sean took a deep breath. "I've been arrested."

Hotch froze. "For what?"

"Something about these women that ended up dead all over the city." Hotch vaguely recalled looking at the case file. From what he remembered, it was serious. "Aaron, I need your help."

Hotch nodded even though his brother couldn't see him. "I'm getting on the next train. I should be there in a few hours."

* * *

"Thank God."

The sun was beginning to rise in New York City when Hotch's train pulled into Grand Central Station. As he made his way out of the terminal, he called Rossi.

"I'm taking a personal day," he told his friend.

"That's sudden."

"Something came up."

"Nothing too serious, I hope."

Hotch debated telling Rossi, then deciding not to. He couldn't risk him telling the rest of the team, which would lead to them becoming worried and interested in helping.

"No. I should get it fixed by the end of the day."

"Well, do you want me to call you if Garcia has a case for us?"

Hotch frowned. "I didn't think we'd get one today." He actually hadn't thought about it much. He was way too preoccupied.

"She says NYPD is getting anxious about everything over there."

Hotch's stomach twisted, and he closed his eyes briefly.

"Hotch?"

"Yeah," he got out. "I'm here."

Rossi hesitated. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

Hotch was now in front of the New York Police Department. He slipped his hand into his pocket and made sure his badge was still there. He figured he might need it to be able to talk to Sean, especially since he wasn't showing up with the team.

"Yeah. I have to go. I'll check in soon." He didn't give Rossi time to answer before hanging up.

"Can I help you, sir?" a young female officer asked when he walked through the door. She looked utterly confused to see him, and Hotch remembered how early it was in the morning. Oh, well.

"Did you arrest someone for the recent murders?"

Her gaze turned guarded and wary. "Are you a reporter?"

Hotch barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He dug out his credentials and flashed them quickly so she wouldn't be able to read his name, yet would know they were official.

"Ohh." Realization dawned on her face, and she nodded. "Yeah, we did. He's in the back. He keeps insisting we have the wrong guy."

Hotch kept his face expressionless. "I need to see him."

"Um, I don't know if I have the power to allow that…" she hedged.

"It's important that I speak to him," he snapped.

The woman glanced at the leather square in his hand before sighing and leading him to the back of the station. When they reached the holding cells she quietly filled the guard in, and he begrudgingly brought Hotch to an empty interrogation room. A moment later Sean joined him, metal cuffs still on his wrists.

"Unlock him," Hotch demanded. When the guard didn't comply, Hotch added, "He won't hurt me, and I won't let him run." The guard frowned, but took them off.

"Explain everything," Hotch said as soon as the door shut. Sean inhaled deeply and sat down at the table. Hotch sat across from him.

"I was wrapping up my shift at the restaurant," Sean started. "It was pretty late. There was a party going on that didn't finish until after one. After I cleaned up and closed up, I headed home. My apartment is only a few blocks from there, so I walked."

"You walk the streets at one in the morning?"

Sean glared at him. "Not every night. This is only a once-in-a-while thing. Now can I continue?" Hotch nodded. "Apparently the guy who's committing these murders looks like me, because on my block there was a bunch of cops, and the minute they saw me they grabbed me and put cuffs on my wrists." Sean winced. "I hope you're gentler with those things."

"Did they read you your rights?" Hotch questioned.

"Yeah." Sean's eyes narrowed. "Don't they have to have probable cause to bring me in? And I mean more than facial similarity?"

"Congratulations, you watch crime shows."

"Oh, you pick now to crack a joke?"

Hotch sighed. "Yes, they do. Did they tell you anything more when they booked you?"

Sean ran a hand down his face. "No. Wait, yes."

"Well?"

"They asked me what I was doing on different dates."

"Most likely when the murders were committed. What did you say?"

Sean looked scared. "Nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I couldn't remember what I was doing those days. You know I'm not good with dates! I couldn't come up with anything."

Hotch struggled to keep his emotions in check. "You didn't recognize any of them?"

"No," Sean answered sheepishly.

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you know where the victims were found?"

Sean thought about it for a moment. "A lot were close to my neighborhood."

Hotch's heart sank. Sean noticed his grave expression.

"What's wrong with that?"

"That probably means your neighborhood is the UnSub's comfort zone."

"So…?"

"When you walked into that neighborhood, they thought you were the killer looking for a new victim. It doesn't help that you look like him." Hotch's eyebrows furrowed. "How did they even get his appearance?"

"I'm guessing an eyewitness account?"

"Those can be unreliable."

"So, that's good, right? It doesn't mean I'm really the killer."

"That also means that someone can easily _say_ you are the killer." Hotch hesitated. "Sean… You would tell me if there _was_ anything going on, right?"

Sean's eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair. "Are you joking?" When Hotch didn't answer his mouth fell open. "I am your _brother. _You can't seriously think I would do this."

"I don't, but we need to cover all the bases." Hotch gazed at Sean. "I honestly don't believe you're capable of this."

Sean's eyes softened a bit. "Then help me."

Hotch nodded. "I will. I promise."


End file.
